


fire blossoms

by peachsneakers



Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Fire Powers, Firestarting, Gen, Kalira Lives, Lavan Chitward Lives, Serious Injuries, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24749206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachsneakers/pseuds/peachsneakers
Summary: What would happen if Lan heard Pol's warning?
Kudos: 22





	fire blossoms

**Author's Note:**

> i re-read "brightly burning" and cried like a baby and i just want them to live, okay

_LAN! RUN!_

Lan staggered and shook his head, the frenzied edge to Pol's mind-call finally catching his attention and forcefully dragging him from the drugging beauty of the dragon unleashed inside him. He glanced wildly around, Pol's panic infecting him.

_:Something's wrong:_ Kalira told him, her own voice thick with worry and the strain of keeping the dragon uncoiled within him at bay, controlled, instead of dragging fire from the very air itself.

_There!_ A drizzle of pebbles fell from above him, and when he reached out, he could feel it. A pocket of wrongness, of _darkness_. The fire roared to life in his lungs, filling his throat, and he struck out blindly, just as he saw the crossbow slot into position.

"Kalira!" He howled, shoving her out of the way just as the Karsite- it had to be a Karsite, no one on their own side would try to assassinate a Companion- danced a jig in flames, crossbow bolt going wild and slamming into Kalira's shoulder.

Kalira screamed her agony to the skies above them and Lan echoed it. His vision blurred, the tenuous control on his power slipping away slowly. He sagged to his knees, letting it, his eyes glazed in crimson, his hands turned up and splayed on the dirty knees of his Whites. Flamelets danced merrily around him, tongues of fire licking at his hair and shoulders. Fire burned, fire chased the Karsites, burning down to the rock, burning the very _air_ , and Lan didn't care, couldn't care, not until-

_:Lan!:_ Kalira shouted into his mind, her voice tight with pain, but very much _there_ , very much _alive_ , and tears traced hot tracks down Lan's burning cheeks. _:Lan, I'll be all right, you did it, look, they're leaving-:_

Dazed, Lan peered down at the inferno below, startled to realize Kalira spoke the truth. He wasn't sure how or why- whether they had lost hope after he turned their assassin into a human candle, or if they had decided they had had enough losses for one day- but the Karsite army was in shambles, pockets of soldiers veering away and stumbling back toward their own border, toward Karse.

_:You did it, beloved:_ Kalira informed him, pride and weariness and pain and love tangling into one big knot of emotions.

Below them, he could see a Herald struggling toward him. Fire fountains flickered at unpredictable intervals, goading the Karsites home. They wavered, testament to his exhaustion, but he stubbornly kept it up, even as Fedor made it up to him, face drawn in tight lines of worry.

"Lan-" he panted. "Your Companion-"

"She's hurt," Lan interrupted. His voice trembled, no matter how hard he tried to stop it. "Please-"

"I'll help as much as I can," Fedor promised. "Let's get you two back down. Pol will be so relieved, we saw the assassin and thought the worst-"

"So did I," Lan said wearily, supporting Kalira as best as he could, Fedor and his own Companion on the other side. "I heard him... Pol, I mean." A flicker of surprise crossed Fedor's brown eyes.

"Good," he said, fervent.

"I hope this- I don't know if I can do this again," Lan admitted. Kalira's pain throbbed in his own mind like a wild thing. The dragon stirred lazily, but thanks to Kalira, the flames slowly died down all across the battlefield, as the Valdemarans pursued the remaining Karsites.

_:I'm so proud of you:_ Kalira whispered into his mind. _:So very proud:_

"Gifts are unpredictable," Fedor said, harking back to his previous conversation. Lan knew what he meant, and it made his stomach sour. Then-

_Let it,_ he thought. Kalira's love and support washed over him like a soothing bath, even as waves of pain battered him. The brush with insanity frightened him. He had given himself over to the flames inside him, he had-

His stomach lurched. He had burnt people. He had burnt them alive and the dragon- _he_ \- had not cared.

The fact that this was war didn't make him feel any better.

_:It won't:_ Kalira informed him. Her tone was still colored with pride. _:But you did the best you could, with what you had. We can talk to Pol about the- the burning. Talk to others. You are the one who dictates how to use your Gift.:_

Lan sighed and turned his attention back to the trail down the mountain, where he could see Pol and Tuck and a tight knot of Heralds and army.

Back toward home, however far it might be.


End file.
